by Eva LeNoir
For the first time, Jaidyn acted like the young girl she was. Her dutiful daughter façade shed to leave place for a twenty-one-year-old young woman who was living her best life.
By the time nightfall hit, we decided not to book a restaurant and walk along Circle Quay until we found one that suited our cravings.
"This one," Robert said, putting his proverbial foot down when it became clear that Jaidyn and I didn't quite know what we were in the mood to eat. Besides each other, that is.
We ate outside, the enchanting view of the harbour, the sounds of Sydneysiders living it up around us, the smell of the ocean like a delicate perfume for the city, all part of our Aussie experience.
We talked a bit, but it was clear that Robert was exhausted, cutting our evening short as we promptly headed back to the hotel.
It didn't bother either one of us, to be honest, since getting back meant I could bask in the warmth of the woman who was quickly becoming my everything.
Chapter 36
Jaidyn
Dad was asleep in the next room of the suite, so Marlon and I decided to take the complementary assorted bottles of liquor, some coke and a bottle of tonic to the balcony. It was a beautiful summer night, early December corresponding to our early June, the temperatures warm but with the breeze from the harbour it was bearable.
“I can’t believe you don’t watch sports,” I told him, continuing our conversation from the restaurant. Dad had asked him if he was a Dodgers fan, Marlon explained he wasn’t a fan of anything but surfing and extreme competitions.
“Well, not in the traditional sense,” he told me, lining up the little bottles and counting them out, “but I do go to surf competitions.”
“Hmm, I don’t know what to think about that,” I said, kicking my feet up on the rail and resting my head on the back of the chair, “I mean, you’re killing the male stereotype, here.” Glancing back at him, I was greeted with a grin that made my knees weak and my belly all tingly. He was handsome at any given time but when he flashed that boyish, devilish grin at me, he was simply stunning. His allure was a combination of his features, a strong jaw line, bright eyes and a delectable mouth. Above it all, it was his kindness, his perceptivity, and his inquisitiveness that set him apart from the rest.
“Do I need to show you my,” he paused, cocking a brow and biting his lip, “stereotype right here?” I blinked and then we both let out a hardy laugh at his expense. Okay, so his humor needed a little help.
“That was bad, Marlon. So, so bad. Like, redneck-at-the-corner-bar, bad.”
“I have to admit, I’ve done better,” he shrugged and pointed at the little bottles, “so, what’s your poison, Jaybird?”
“Gin and tonic, please. With lime.” I was barely legal in the States, but I’d been to fundraisers and galas my entire life. I knew what I liked when it came to alcohol.
“One G and T coming up.”
I watched him carefully empty out the bottle into a glass, pour the tonic and take a lime that he’d already cut up.
“My lady is served,” he announced, handing me my drink, and promptly serving himself a whiskey.
We were sitting on either side of the square table, looking out onto the harbour, enjoying our spectacular view when Marlon broached the subject I hated most in the world.
“You never speak of your mother, are you not close?”
I tried not to react to the question, tried to keep my tone calm and even, but my mother had left when I was fifteen and never came back. Not once. No letters, no phone calls.
“No, can’t say that we are.” I took a sip of the gin and moaned; it was the perfect blend.
“Keep making those noises, little bird, and I’ll have to get creative out here,” he warned me, his normally mismatched eyes, a solid black.
“Yeah, because that’s going to make me want to stop,” I taunted and then added, “in fact, now I’m curious.”
“Tell me about your mother, Jaidyn,” he insisted, the return to the subject like a cold bucket of water on my libido.
With a sigh, I answered as honestly as I could without inviting further conversation on the subject, “There’s nothing to say, Marlon. When she learned of Dad’s illness, she stayed for awhile and then had an affair.”
“Oh shit,” he murmured, turning his attention away from Sydney Opera and focused it entirely on me, “I’m sorry.”
“The best part? When he confronted her about it, she just apologized, said something about being too weak and then left the country with her boyfriend.” I hated her for what she’d done to him. To me. To our family.
“She didn’t want to take you with her?” he asked, a mere whisper as though if he spoke the idea too loudly it might physically injury me.
“She did. But I refused. There was no way I was leaving my dad all alone. She had her boyfriend; she didn’t need me.” Dad was sick and I had vowed to take care of him.
“I read something about Huntington’s being, you know,” he was having a hard time saying the word, so I put him out of his misery.
“Hereditary. Yes, it is, but not systematically,” I told him, unable to look at him as I spoke because I knew. I knew what his next question would inevitably be. Calvin had never been interested in learning about Huntington’s and I never provided any information, so this conversation was brand new for me.
“And, are you?” There it was. The question that everyone was asking.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, the words floating like a whisper around us.
I heard the chair move as its feet scraped across the tile floor. I still couldn’t look at him but if I had to guess, I’d say he was staring daggers at me, wondering how it was possible that I didn’t know. Again, I answered before he could ask.
“I haven’t been tested, yet,” I sighed, afraid the words might make him run away. We’d been together for five minutes; I didn’t think we’d have the heavy conversations this early in the game.
“By choice or you can’t?”
“By choice,” I admitted, still not looking at him. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment on his face, just like on my father’s every time I refused the testing.
“I get it,” he said, surprising the hell out of me.
I turned to face him, finally, searching for any signs of insincerity.
There were none.
“You do?” I asked, a brow lifted in skepticism.
“Yeah, of course. I mean,” he poured another gin and tonic and I was surprised to see my glass empty. The heavy conversation was making me drink too fast, “Once you know, you can’t un-know it, right?”
I watched him in silence because, yes. That was exactly right.
I was twenty-one years old, my life supposedly at the tip of my fingers, my best years still ahead of me. But if I took that test, I’d know that my best years were behind me. I just couldn’t bear that thought.
“Right,” I agreed.
Looking up at me from his glass, he gave a me warm smile, “You take such good care of your father, Jaybird,” he said softly, reverently, “who’s going to take care of you?” Reaching out across the table, he lifted my fingers with his and intertwined them before leaning in and kissing each of my knuckles. “Who’s going to take care of you, little bird?” he repeated as though the answer were of the upmost importance.
I shrugged; my emotions too fragile to continue this conversation.
“My turn,” I said, turning the spotlight away from me and turning it on him. Although his life was pretty much an open book laid out in the gossip magazines.
“I know your parents died when you were a teenager but, what happened to them?” I asked, watching him inhale and exhale before answering.
“How about we keep that story for another late-night drink fest on the balcony of a hotel room?” he tried to sound lighthearted, but I could tell the conversation was not one he wanted to broach. “I’ll tell you this, though, because you were so forthcoming,” he squeezed my fingers an
d kissed the tender skin on the inside of my wrist, “They were not good people and I’m a better man now than I could have possibly been if they were still alive.”
I blinked up at him, the confession breaking my heart a little.
“Come here,” he whispered, pulling on my fingers until I willingly made my way to sit on his lap, “Have I told you lately how exceptional you are?”
“Not in the last couple of hours. You’re slacking off, Brooks.” I said with a straight face.
Turning me so I went from sitting across his lap to straddling it, he palmed my jaw and without a single hint of humor he said, “Jaidyn Hughes, you are the single, most incredible woman I have ever met. I am in awe of you.” When he kissed me, I tasted the salty liquid between our lips and realized I was crying. It didn’t happen often. The fear that I wouldn’t be able to turn off the waterworks was real, but I hadn’t known until that moment how much I needed to hear those words.
“Thank you,” I whispered against his gentle kisses, “thank you,” I repeated as his lips begged for more, his tongue demanding entrance. I gave it all to him. I gave him my gratitude, my trust, my longing and a little bit of my heart.
It didn’t take long for the kiss to turn to more. My body naturally sought out his touch, but we were on the balcony and there were people staying in the suite next to us.
Marlon didn’t seem to care. Sliding his hand under my white silk shirt, he unsnapped my bra at my back in a move that reminded me this wasn’t his first rodeo.
With my breasts free, he palmed one and squeezed, running kisses down my neck, lifting my shirt and guiding my nipple to his mouth. His tongue worked its magic over me, it was warm and firm, the sensations running amok throughout my body.
“You taste divine,” he said in between licks and kisses, “I could do this all night.”
And he did.
Scooting his chair back a couple of feet to ensure more privacy, he took me by the hips, lifted me just enough to have me standing between his spread thighs and methodically took every item of clothing off of me until I was standing naked before him, his scrutiny burning a trail of fire and want from my eyes to my pussy and back again.
He lathered me with attention, worshipped every inch of my skin. Lavishing my pussy with his tongue and punishing my clit with his sucks.
I should have felt self conscious, uneasy at the possibility of someone seeing me like that. But I wasn’t. I felt seen, yes, by the man sitting, still dressed in his dinner clothes, right in front of me. The man who was showing me, without a single word, how much he wanted me. How much he respected me. With his eyes fixed on mine, he lifted his hips as he unzipped his pants sliding the soft material down until his cock sprung loose. Long and proud, pulsing with need, he wrapped a hand around it and slowly, leisurely began stroking himself. Every two or three strokes, he ran the pad of his thumb across the weeping slit and licked his lips. My hands automatically went to my own nipples, rubbing and twisting, making myself crazy with desire.
“I can still taste your juices when I think about your pussy, do you know that?” he murmured, then reached back into his jacket pocket and produced a foil packet.
“Pretentious, much?” I cocked a brow, teasing him.
“Hopeful, a lot.”
“Resourceful.” I admitted, taking a step forward, and taking the open packet in my hand and releasing the condom.
“Let me.”
He didn’t resist, just sat back and watched me as I rolled on the rubber glove, peering back up at him under my eyelashes before kneeling on either side of his thighs, my arms over his shoulders, my fingers tangled in his hair.
“Take me, Marlon,” I murmured into his ear just as he lifted my hips and impaled me, taking the breath right out of me. We weren’t frantic, no racing to the finish line. We were simply enjoying each other’s bodies in the cool summer breeze of the Darling Harbour.
There weren’t any cries of pleasure or exuberant orgasms. We both climaxed in the quiet cocoon of our balcony, our heaving chests in sync, our bodies trembling together from the ecstasy.
“You’re stunning like this. Naked in the moonlight. Only for me,” he whispered, and I knew he didn’t mean my physical undress. I was at my most vulnerable, my eyes open windows to my soul.
“I see you,” I told him, kissing his lips one last time before he picked me up and took me to bed where we made love twice more before sleep took us away.
Chapter 37
Jaidyn
We spent five days in Sydney, doing the usual tourist dance, visiting the famous spots I had read about in books and seen on the screens. As the only one of us who was discovering Oz for the first time, I was mesmerized by the city. The modern skyline illuminated by the scintillant crushed sapphire waters of the Harbours, the proud Sydneysiders, the mass of people like us, taking in all they could before moving on to the next attraction.
My father was tired. His tremors were making him moody and unpredictable. Daily arguments with him, trying to convince him that his medication was not just necessary but unavoidable was proving disheartening. Every day, I was losing him incrementally more.
On the days where walking was inevitable and not necessarily wheelchair friendly, Dad chose to stay at the hotel sleeping, reading, or contemplating the sights from the comfort of his balcony.
I hated leaving him alone, but he’d made it abundantly clear that he needed his privacy. And so, we gave it to him.
Marlon and I were able to discover the city, the sights of this country whose history was as complex as the people who inhabited it.
From the Bondi Iceberg Pools where the ocean waves tumbled into the manmade pool, to the Inner West where street art gave voice to those who had needed to speak, we explored the streets, cafés and restaurants of Sydney.
“I didn’t really do any of this when I came the first time,” he’d told me as we stood, hand in hand on the sidewalk, admiring what would be my favorite mural. A 3-D depiction of a woman’s eye looking out from the cracked walls of the building. Everything around her in color as she, in black and white, tried to break free. It said so much about women, about race and of course, about the culture of socioeconomics.
“You travelled across the world, stayed for three months and did what? Surf all day?” I’d chuckled because that was absurd, right?
“Pretty much, yeah.” Looking at him, I had rolled my eyes and clucked my tongue.
“That’s just sad, Marlon.”
“It was heaven for the twenty-two-year-old I was,” he’d explained, bending down to kiss me on the forehead.
“Bet you got laid like a pro, during those months,” I’d muttered, not quite hiding the green-eyed monster I had no right feeling.
“Oh, look, let’s get a beer,” he’d changed the subject to avoid going anywhere near that conversational disaster.
By the time we’d finished our stay in Sydney, we’d seen a great deal and spent a large portion of our time on the waters between the Darling and Sydney Harbours and the Manly Ferry that took us all around the must-see attractions.
Leaving the city put a bit of a damper on my mood. It was a lot like San Diego but more exuberating somehow. Probably due to the fact that it was all new for me whereas San Diego was my home. Still, packing up at the hotel saddened me more than I had expected.
“I promise, I’ll bring you back and we can stay longer, little bird,” Marlon had murmured into my ear as I put the last items in my suitcase, “Plus, this part of the trip is going to be the best,” he bit my ear lobe and kissed my neck before turning me around to face him and caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. “We’ll be back.” And there was nothing but determination in his hypnotizing eyes.
“What happened to your left eye, Marlon?” I blurted out, like a toddler with no restraint. It was neither the place nor the time to inquire on his health. It was private and probably due to physical trauma.
I knew what it was, we’d studied in biology, a segmental heterochromia. H
is was a patch of brown painted on the normally green iris. It suited him, brought out his uniqueness.
“Jesus, Jaidyn, a little warning before we delve into my imperfections? Maybe when we have the time?” He looked down at his watch and cocked his head, probably realizing that we would either stand here until I got an answer, or he could just get it over with.
“This is how you always get everything you want from your dad, isn’t it? He told me about your stubborn streak,” he chuckled, making my brows crease. Why would Dad talk about me being stubborn?
“That’s exaggerated since I’ve been pretty damn laid back during this trip,” I told him, stabbing him playfully in the chest with my index finger.
“This is true,” he conceded, then added, “It’s called…”
“I know what it’s called, we studied it, but I want to know how you got it,” I said, softly.
Kissing me on the lips, his hand spanning the length of my neck with a thumb at my chin, he kissed me deeper still.
“Can we talk about this when we’re not trying to check-out and leave the city?”
“I guess,” I whined jokingly, playing the part of the spoiled brat, “but it’ll cost you.”
With a wicked grin adorning his lips, he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Baby, you can have every inch of me next time we’re alone.”
“I wasn’t talking about sex!”
I really was talking about sex, but his ego did not need to know that.
And judging by the wink he threw my way before heading to his own room, there was no doubt in my mind that he absolutely did not believe me.
Chapter 38
Marlon
Things were going well. Maybe too well. The guilt gnawing at me like a mosquito bite that never ceased to itch. I was afraid I’d scratch it until I saw blood.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t my secret to tell and Robert would, when the time was right. At least that’s what he kept telling me every time I brought up the subject. When that time would be, was anyone’s guess. Every chance I had, I would practically beg the man to let Jaidyn in on his plans, give her the opportunity to understand his decisions.